A Sneak Peek (with Dinosaurs)!

Hello! I hope everyone had a week that was better than the thought of a "Jurassic Park" and "Pirates of the Caribbean" mash-up!

This week, I am exuberantly excited to bring you a chapter from my upcoming book "Life is a Pirate Ship Run by a Velociraptor" which will be released September 7th!

If you haven't yet, quickly go "like" the book's Facebook page to stay up to date on more previews and exciting updates! 

So without further ado, I present the first public snippet of "Life is a Pirate Ship Run by a Velociraptor!"

3. Everyone Follow Your Heart... Except You

There’s that age-old phrase that little girls are made from “sugar and spice and everything nice.”

Aside from having too many “ands” in it, that phrase could never have been used to describe me. I was more made from “wit and guile and everything wild.”

I was not a complacent little child. I refused to wear any dress that had ruffles or lace on it. The only way you could get me to sit in a chair for long periods of time was with a book, and even then my legs would be swinging away.

I never understood why in Sunday school I couldn’t color Jesus purple and draw green antennae on his head. Apparently, a four-year-old can commit “blasphemy” even though she can’t say it.

I also did not understand why it was weird for me to want to be Robin Hood as opposed to Maid Marian for Halloween. I mean, come on, Robin Hood had a bow and arrow. What did Maid Marian have, needlepoint?

And, though I was shy at first with most adults, if prodded enough, I definitely had an opinion on absolutely everything. I know, that last one is particularly shocking.

When I was in kindergarten I lived in Eugene, Oregon, a magical place where both the super conservative Promise Keepers religious group and the Grateful Dead once came to town on the same day and held performances two blocks away from each other.

Directly behind me lived a little boy about two years older than I, named Todd. Our back fences, which were actually just some super tall hedges, met with a gate in the middle. Every time I went over to Todd’s house to play it was like I was traveling through the portal to Narnia or the Secret Garden.

Todd wasn’t super popular with a lot of the other kids because he was extremely hyperactive. I loved him for it! We had the most amazing adventures and both ended up with some of the most fascinating scrapes and bruises. Of course, then we later had to explain to our parents how we got our injuries. The trick was doing so in a way that made it seem like playing Tarzan from the roof of the garage had a more logical thought process behind it than, “Let’s jump off the roof and swing from a bungee cord.”

 Todd introduced me to an amazing amount of pop culture. I first watched Power Rangers with him and quickly learned why no one wanted to be the blue Power Ranger when groups of us kids got together to pretend to defeat giant robots (cardboard boxes).

I first saw World Wrestling Federation, my eyes wider than one of Hulk Hogan’s biceps, from Todd’s parents’ couch. Of course, my four-or-five-year-old brain knew it was fake. That did not stop me from attempting to body slam Todd nor him trying to get me in an effective sleeper hold every chance
we got.

Probably the best and most influential piece of culture that Todd brought to me was Jurassic Park.

This was not a movie that I really was supposed to have been watching. However, at the age of five, I operated under the principle of “ask for forgiveness instead of permission,” more often than Keira Knightley is photographed with her mouth slightly open. I already loved dinosaurs, but that movie doubly solidified my adoration for the long dead creatures.

Dinosaurs were awesomely rad. They didn’t have to go to bed at nine, they didn’t have to listen to their teachers and they most certainly didn’t have to brush their teeth at least twice a day. Heck, dinosaurs couldn’t even be stopped by an amazingly good hunter, his skill being evidenced by his Australian accent, with a gun. What chance did parents have against that!?

My True Velociraptor Form

That movie was the true deciding factor; I wanted to be a dinosaur. To that end I quickly adopted my dinosaur persona, namely, that of a velociraptor. I would stomp around, making velociraptor calls and keeping my arms tucked in with two fingers protruding like claws.

Of course, at four or five years of age, adults tend to write this kind of behavior off as adorable. Somehow, I’ve discovered, as an adult people think it’s less cute when you
snarl at them.

I did not want to be “adorable.” I wanted to be fierce! This was a point that did not go over well when I chased after the other kids in Sunday school, roaring and snapping my teeth.

To answer your question, no, I did not have a lot of friends my age when I was a kid. Why do you ask?

Now, I had learned to read by the time I was in kindergarten, and not just little kid, “See Spot run” type books. I had chapter books under my belt by then and was happily working my way through books I found on Greek Mythology, dragons and, of course, dinosaurs.

Just because I could not pronounce half of the words I read, did not mean that I did not understand them. This was a fact my kindergarten teacher quickly learned when I asked her
for help with how to say a word and she said, “Oh honey, you don’t need to know what ‘peculiar’ means.”

I replied with, “I know what it means, it means weird. I just didn’t know how to say it.”

At first my kindergarten teacher was extremely excited that I could read, but then she realized how dangerous this truly was.

One day we had “Career Day,” where we were all going to talk about what we wanted to be when we grew up.

Looking back on this as an adult, it makes about as much sense to have a “Career Day” for kindergarteners as it does to have scrapbooking classes for sparrows. I am currently in my twenties and I honestly have no idea what I want to do with the rest of my life. How do you expect a kindergartener to know?

In any case, my teacher went around the room asking each little boy and girl what they wanted to be when they grew up.

“Remember, if you try hard enough and stay in school, you can be anything you want to be!”

Liar.

She started at the front of the class.

Suzy said, “Doctor!”

Matthew said, “Fireman!”

Sarah said, “Figure skater!”

Devon said, “Truck driver!”

It came to my turn and, being absolutely honest, I piped up with, “Velociraptor!”

My teacher sighed and blinked at me, “No, honey, you can’t be a velociraptor when you grow up.”

“Why?”

“Because little girls can’t grow up to be dinosaurs, pick something else.”

I mused for a minute, “Okay, I want to be Pegasus when I grow up!”

The teacher blew out some air, “No, try again.”

“Gryphon?”

“Nope.”

“Mutant Ninja Turtle?”

“No.”

“Phoenix?”

“No!”

We went back and forth like this for some time. I would list off a mythological creature or some strange alien being and my teacher would look more and more like she wanted to visit a
bar after work that day. Finally, she agreed to “President-ninja-Batman,” as it was at least human and moved on.

She may have moved on, but I was not giving up my dream of velociraptor glory.

A few weeks later, the kindergarten class was to put on a little mini-play about safety at our school assembly. Everyone in the class got a part.

My teacher, knowing my propensity to forget and then ad-lib things, gave me a part with one line. I was a random businessperson who was supposed to say, “I sell good veggies!”

Practices went well enough. I delivered my line and moved off stage and my teacher seemed to take fewer and fewer of the little white pills she kept in her desk with each passing day.

The day of our debut performance in front of a bunch of other elementary school kids finally came. I looked out at the crowds we would be performing for and immediately knew that my one line was too much for me to utter.

I was terrified. With all those little eyes watching me, I just knew that I was going to do something awful and embarrassing, like forget my line, walk off the edge of the stage or have to be the blue Power Ranger next time we were all playing together.

My teacher, attempting to herd all of her kindergarteners into place (a task much like herding weasels on crack) quickly dismissed my fears by saying, “Just pretend that you are what you want to be when you grow up! Think about how much courage you have to have for that job!”

Apparently my teacher had forgotten, one week later, that my vocational goals were as follows:

1. Become a velociraptor.

2. Run around roaring and eating animals.

3. Never have a set bedtime ever again.

4. Generally be awesome.

The performance went smoothly enough and then it came the time for the shopkeeper to come on stage and say her one line.

I got up on stage, looked out at the crowd of other kids, and immediately channeled my inner-velociraptor.

My hands came up into their claw position, I bared my teeth and I roared. The rest of the teachers looked at my teacher for a minute, almost believing this might be part of the play. Their hopes that this was planned were immediately dashed against the jagged rocks of reality, as I roared again and proceeded to chase Jimmy off of the stage.

Despite the punishment waiting for me at home, I never gave up on my velociraptor dream. Granted, today I can’t really roar at non-compliant clients and chase them out of my office, but if you’re around me enough, you might catch me in a moment where just a little bit of velociraptor shines through.

So, what scraps of knowledge can be picked from the bones of experience?

1. If you want normal, rather bland children, don’t teach them to read early. However, if you want awesome children, with huge imaginations, who can solve problems and think things through, then teach them to read as early as you can!

2. The weirdest kids on the block oftentimes simultaneously have the biggest bruises and the most fun.

3. Don’t try to cage the velociraptor, it will only come back to bite you in the end. Sometimes literally.

If you liked this excerpt, the rest of "Life is a Pirate Ship Run by a Velociraptor" will be sailing to a bookstore shelf or online store near you! Don't forget to go like the book's Facebook page for updates!

Torture Via Whitney Houston

Hello everyone! I hope you have all had splendid weeks!

This week I found myself at the mercy of one of the most baffling customer service experiences of my life.

Everything started out innocently enough. I went to buy groceries, as my alternative was once again eating a peanut butter and jelly tortilla. Only, when I went to pay for my groceries with my bank connected credit card, which is the only card I had on me at that moment, it didn't work.

No, I wasn't denied. The machine just refused to read my card at all. I might as well have been attempting to pay with a slice of swiss cheese, which was one of the things I wanted to buy with my nonworking card.

After apologetically digging out a check, amidst grumbling noises from the other people in line, and paying, I did what any rational person would do; I called my bank to order a replacement card.

Now keep in mind, having worked customer service jobs I know they are not easy. These jobs are an endless stream of frustrated people, oftentimes who are angry that you cannot magically solve a problem they probably caused. This is why I always try to be nice to people on customer service lines. Usually, this works for me. Some days, though...

I navigated the automated instructions and waited through several minutes of the same six bars of Whitney Houston's "I Will Always Love You" in a constant loop broken up by advertisements for services I did not need. Finally, a service representative joined me on the line.

I verified my name, address, birth date, last four numbers of my social security number and ultimately got my chance to say, "So, my card has stopped working..."

Before I could continue the representative, in her super perky voice, said, "Oh, let me send you over to fraud!"

"B-but!"

It was too late. I found myself listening to more crackly Whitney Houston.

After a few minutes someone from the fraud department picked up. I verified all of my information again and the fraud representative looked over my account, "Miss Hawn, there doesn't seem to be any fraud on your account, and your card has no active balance. This must be a problem with your card, I'm going to send you back to member services."

"AND I WILL ALWAYS LO --- Did you know that you can pay your bills online? Our automatic bill-pay is really the bees knees! It's the greatest invention since Al Gore invented the internet! --- VE YOUUUUUUUU!"

When I was again connected with a customer service rep, I verified my information and said, "Fraud sent me back here because my card isn't working, and---"

"Oh, that's a question for our fraud department, I will connect you with them now!"

And round and round and "I will always love you" round we went.

So True

Representative number four asked me if I had accidentally swiped the wrong side of my card, or perhaps tried to swipe the narrow edge. Sighing I said, "I was born at night, it wasn't last night, though."

"This must be a job for the fraud people!"

By the time I verified my information with company representative number five, I was truly terrified that Whitney was going to always love me because I would never be free of the phone.

By person number six that picked up my call I had hit the customer service breaking point. At this juncture it was seven in the evening, I had been working all day and hadn't eaten anything since my peanut butter and jelly tortilla at lunch. I believe the adjective that aptly described my state of mind at that moment would have been "hangry" (so hungry that you're angry), which is perhaps how this happened:

"Hi this Bob! How can I help you!"

"Okay Bob, my name is Allison Hawn. I live at [insert address]. The last four digits of my social security number are [insert numbers]. You aren't supposed to ask a lady her age, so don't. I am 5'3" tall if I'm wearing tall shoes, blonde, am currently wearing a red bra because it's the only one I have clean, hate the slang word "totes," will admit to having used the same knife in both the peanut butter and the jelly today out of pure laziness and regularly change the oil in my truck. Am I verified yet, or shall I continue?"

There was dead silence on the other end of the phone for a full ten seconds before the customer service rep said, "I think I wish I lived in Spokane."

Suddenly realizing that his boss could very well be listening, Bob quickly switched to, "How can I help you today?"

I took a deep breath and said, "Alright, I am going to say words. Do not act on these words until I am done saying them. Do not transfer me. Do not make me listen to Whitney Houston on a loop. Do not assume that I am an idiot who does not know which side of the credit card makes the magic happen. I will let you know when I am done speaking and then you can have your turn. Are we clear?"

The representative on the other end of the phone let out a nervous chuckle, "Yes?"

"Alright. My card doesn't work. It isn't fraud. It isn't user error. The card is broken. I need a new card. I need a card that allows me to buy groceries without having to dig out my checks and pay for food like I am 82 years old. I am now done explaining and you may suggest further action now. Go."

There was a beat of silence before the guy on the other end of the phone asked, "How many representatives have you tried to tell this to?"

"More than I should have."

"Fair enough."

I now have a new card and I think I learned some important lessons while I was at it:

1. As Mick Jagger so nearly sang, "You can't always get what you want, but if you get hungry/angry enough to start talking like a crazy person into the phone, you might get what you need."

2. Apparently mentioning your bra color to the customer service representative on the phone speeds up the process. As this was my first time trying this tactic I have no scientific proof that it works, but as further experiments continue I will report my findings here.

3. Whitney Houston will always love you.

Don't forget I have a book signing for "Life is a Circus Run by a Platypus" in Boise, Idaho at Hyde Park Books on June 13th!

As always, you can follow my constant adventures on Facebook, Twitter (@AllisonHawn) and Goodreads!

Giraffe People

Hello everyone! I hope you had a more fantastic week than the thought of a thousand neon-painted crickets armed with tiny bats chasing after a lion.

My week has been... fascinating. Fascinating in that, "I think I might need one of those nice white jackets that lets you hug yourself," kind of way.

For instance, on Wednesday, I walked into one of the social work agencies I work with, and the first thing I was met with was two, giant, tattooed, color flying gang bangers... who were knitting.

As I walked by, one of them turned to the other and said, "Ah, mother-@$!#*! I just missed a stitch!"

Apparently the leader for the AA group that was supposed to meet that morning had not shown up, but all the participants had to have a sober activity to do for a couple of hours to meet their service requirements. So, some little old lady taught them to knit.

That mental image, for me at least, can brighten even the darkest day.

This week I had the opportunity to interview another Spokane-based author, Jill Malone, who wrote the wonderful book "Giraffe People."

Jill Malone's "Giraffe People" paints a vivid and unique picture of the classic coming of age story. Set in the life of a military preacher's kid, Malone manages to create a soul in her character of Cole who is both so genuinely a teenager in her speech and actions, but also feels like a sage in her realizations.

Readers feel a connection to Cole as she deals with relationships, the pressures of school, struggles with religion, family relations and becoming her own unique person. Malone also does an excellent job of talking about teenage relationships in a way that is realistic, instead of trite or overly dramatic. "Giraffe People" is a work that feels genuine and is a wonderful read.

Jill is also just an all around fantastic person, as I'm sure the answers to these questions will show.

What motivated you to start writing?

I've been writing stories since I was six. They used to feature daring animals and super sketchy artwork. In graduate school, I intended to focus on poetry, but discovered Alice Munro and saw an entirely different potential for short stories. My first novel, Red Audrey and the Roping, began as a short story when I was 22. The story sprawled so much that it translated into a novel easily. I think we write because we're trying to explain the world to ourselves. To understand it.

For Giraffe People, I'd been listening to the New Yorker podcast of Tobias Wolff reading Stephan Vaughn's short story, Dog Heaven. Wolff said it was the first story he'd ever read that took on the lives of military dependents. It's a gorgeous story, and I felt, as I listened, how correct he is. There's too much silence about the experience of military dependents. I wanted to write about memory and the Persian Gulf War, about high school and music, about sexuality. I wanted to write about Jersey -- what an odd freaking base Fort Monmouth is. 

How hard was it, writing from the perspective of a teenager, to put yourself into that mindset?

Writing teens is delightful: they are self aware and clueless in a compelling way. I needed the clarity of Cole's observations about her self and the war, about the military and her family. She's individuating, and at the same time, she's discovering her sexual self and what that means. One of the things I'd forgotten about high school until I started writing the characters is how communal the experience is. We had eight classes and sports and extra curriculars and our community was huge. 

I also wanted to write the power imbalance of a teen. The way that imbalance is crucial when you're discovering your sexual self, and deciding what you believe, and negotiating the adult you'll become. The fact that Cole's father is a military chaplain is at the center of her life, but it isn't her center. She is starting to see that clearly.

I enjoyed remembering the strange world of high school. The kind of gum we chewed and the terrible acid-washed jeans. The crimped hair. The peculiar diction. I love that time when you realize that your parents are also just doing the best they can. That most of life is guess work. That's a terrible discovery and also one filled with grace. 

Which of your characters was your least favorite to write?

In Giraffe People, the character I struggle with most is the father. I have sympathy for him as a human, but his controlling impulses toward his daughter are not OK. When I was writing the novel, I didn't realize how timely the story would be. Since I finished the manuscript, Don't Ask Don't Tell is no longer policy; It Gets Better, and numerous other organizations, have changed the way the queer community reaches out to teens. I didn't have stories like this -- stories that felt true to my experience, stories that gave me a way to see my potential -- when I was first coming out. I felt vulnerable in high school in a way that mirrored my experience writing Cole Peters' father. 

Cole is discovering her own agency. And her father is not interested in that agency applying to her sexual self. I find his impulse to control her sexuality creepy, and it was hard to write about with fairness. 

"Giraffe People" is about youths. When you were writing it did you originally intend it for a youth audience?

I certainly hoped it would have crossover appeal, but I didn't set out to write a young-adult novel. Nor, for that matter, did I set out to write a lesbian novel. I wrote this story because it was important to tell. My favorite feedback so far has been from teen readers. They get the story in a different way. In that way that Cole experiences things -- as if for the first time, and bigger. 

What was your favorite part about writing this book?

 I love writing about music. I hadn't done that before. And writing teens is liberating. They can speak and observe exactly as it occurs to them and so the narrative goes in surprising places and feels like it's taking deep breaths. I didn't realize how much I loved being an Army Brat until I told this story. I have been lucky. And I feel it now more keenly than ever. Writing Cole -- getting to see the world from her perspective -- gave me a sense of living differently. I love the way she sees.  

If you had to pick one superhero to play checkers against, who would you choose?

I'd totally play against Wolverine. It would be gruesome.

"Giraffe People" is available at Bywater Books and on Amazon for anyone who is interested in this excellent read.

In other news "Life is a Circus Run by a Platypus" has gotten some really awesome reviews this week!

Kimberly Heiser writes, "I loved this book it's funny it's weird and I laugh every time I read it every day. Amazing book."

Thank you again to all of you who have read and reviewed my book, your support means more than you can imagine!

As always, you can follow my exploits on Facebook, Twitter and Goodreads!

Something To Be Tempted By

Hello! I hope everyone had a week that was more satisfying than that scene in "Jurassic Park" where the T-Rex ate the lawyer. You know, this scene:

Well it has been a crazy week for me. Everything from the man in the wheel chair who followed me down the street barking and growling at me, to the nude tweaker I had to help herd out of the street so he wouldn't get hit by a car to the lady who informed me that two of her personalities weren't talking to one another, made for one very special week.

The sad part is, the full moon isn't even until next week. Well at least it might provide material for a sequel to "Life is a Circus Run by a Platypus," right?

Well, luckily, my week had a good point too. I had a chance to read a wonderful book by Denise Greenwood called "Temptation."

Denise Greenwood's darkly humorous and poignant work, "Temptation," is a captivating read. The book immerses the reader into the lives of the characters as they both deal with their own inner struggles and find themselves intertwined in the stories of others.

Denise's characters feel distinct and authentic, not just in their personal battles and desires, but in the way that they talk, react to one another and think. "Temptation" holds a reader's attention as each character's unique story unfolds to reveal new and deeper details that lend to a larger, compelling story. I would recommend "Temptation" to anyone who truly wants to lose themselves in a book for a while, I promise you will find yourself forgetting about the outside world entirely.

I not only got to read and review this work, but I also snagged an interview with Denise!  

 

What inspired you to start writing?

It was a childhood dream, like some kids want to be ballet dancers or astronauts, I always wanted to write but found I had nothing to say. My life became geared to a career and family, then, after a traumatic couple of years I found I had experiences and events I had to get out of my system and an idea came to me. The storyline for my first book "Temptation" slowly formed in my mind and I thought about it for a year before I finally sat down one day to see if I could write. To my surprise, I wrote the first chapter in one sitting and knew then that I had to continue. I was compelled.

You have a plethora of unique characters in "Temptation," how did come up with not only your characters, but their distinct stories?

Characters are an amalgamation of people I know, once knew and myself if split into several personalities. Some of their very distinct stories are based on actual events doctored to fit the storyline and character. For example the chapter ‘A Kiss for Bobby’ actually happened but it was told as an important aspect of one of the character’s lives.

Which of your characters was your favorite to write?

Reverend Jacob Alecks who appears in both ‘Temptation’ and ‘Star Keeper’ has to be my favourite. His suffering, confusion, decline into semi-madness in full public view and then surprise at the consequences was like watching a child grow up. He matured and evolved as I wrote.

How many of your characters are based on people you actually know? How many of those people, if any, realize that you've based characters in your book after them?

Each character is a mixture of traits, conversations and experiences of people I know mixed with a sprinkling of self and then a spoonful of imagination. I would be very amused if any of the people recognized something of themselves in any of my books and that is a luxury only a writer, actor or film maker can enjoy.

 What was your favorite part about the whole writing experience?

The whole process is cathartic and releases ghosts and demons that would otherwise be without a voice. As I write, I come to terms with personal events and the crazy things people say and do. If I had to compare it with anything, then it is like Mr Hyde being able to release Dr Jekyll on a leash.

If you could open a restaurant with any literary character (from your book or not) who would it be?

Tommy Knight from ‘Temptation’ goes on into my second book ‘Star Keeper’ and opens my ideal restaurant, a bistro-bookshop. He combines fine dining and wine with reading and debate. But, if I could choose someone I would run it with then it would have to be Annie Kinsella from the adaptation of W.P. Kinsella’s ‘Shoeless Joe.’ I love free spirits who will stand up for what they believe in even if it’s unconventional.

What kind of a response from readers has "Temptation" been receiving? 

I loved a review that described "Temptation" as “unique and risky” but quite a few readers have told me that they “laughed out loud” at some of the chapters. My story lines are often quite serious at heart and characters deeply layered but by using humour I diffuse otherwise tense and shocking scenes. It has been personally gratifying to hear my books described so.

If you are interested in finding a copy of "Temptation" it is on Amazon, Kobo and Barnes and Noble.

Remember you can always follow my adventures on Facebook, Goodreads and Twitter!

Rock On, Politely

Hello all you lovely, wonderful people! (Unless you are the person who recently parked your giant SUV (with the spinning hubcaps) in such a way that it took up six parking spots in a parking lot that had a total of six spots, then you are scum. Talented scum, but scum.)

Anyways, I hope all of you have had  more fantastic weekend than the thought of a thousand neon painted guinea pigs tap dancing to "The Brandenburg Concerto."

My week was full of delusional people asking me to help them find jobs ("No, I'm sorry, but I don't find toads jobs."), random drivers who assumed the sidewalk, where I was walking, was actually a third lane and one random shirtless gentleman, who held aloft his mighty spoon and announced that, "Cowards will not prevail!"

So in less insane news, Life is a Circus Run by a Platypus has gotten another awesome review!

John Hartnett writes, "...Ms. Hawn's endearing personality shines through much of her work. Often self deprecating, she is not one to put herself up on a pedestal to look down at the rest of the world. In many of her pieces, she's right there clamoring and stumbling along with the rest of us and writing from that vantage point is where Ms.Hawn excels..." (Full review here.)

So this weekend I was here:

In case you can't read the banner behind the bedraggled looking singer, I saw Saliva in concert, which was awesome!

It was like going back to middle school (which is about when they popped up on the musical horizon for me), but without all the acne, awkward body changes and overall awfulness that middle school brought.

I am a concert junky. I have seen over 100 bands in concert, everyone from Heart, to M.C. Hammer to Megadeth to Weird Al Yankovic (three times on that one, actually).

There is something more than magical about a well done live performance. It's everything from the energy of the crowd, to feeling the beat of the music resonate on your spine and in your ribcage that gives one a moment in time where they can forget almost entirely about oneself and just immerse oneself in a world of music.

Now, out of the 100 or so concerts I have been to (I honestly stopped counting after my 80th one back in 10th grade), quite a few of them have been rock concerts.

As I stood, not terribly far from the stage this past Friday, I looked around and saw many brand new concert babies.

Concert babies are not hard to pick out. They are the ones who have so obviously never been to a rock concert that you can almost smell fresh meat and innocence in an aura around them.

There were so many of them at this concert that I barely could take a step without trampling on one of their ill-advised, flip-flop clad feet. As it appears that we have yet another generation of rockers joining the ranks, I have decided that it might be time to post the unspoken rules of rock concerts; "Mosh-pit Etiquette" if you will.

So for those new to concerts, or those long time veterans who have somehow managed to miss the memo, here's a few things to keep in mind.

1. Wear appropriate clothing. Rock concerts are not places for your finest evening gown, a great place to wear just a bikini top or anything else that can be easily ruined or ripped off. One thing that I would like to specifically iterate; if you are going to be down on the floor anywhere near where a mosh-pit could break out (so anywhere on the floor, really) wear actual shoes. Not flip-flops, not heels, not loafers, SHOES!

Why? Because there are going to be at least 5 or 6 guys per concert who are built like this:

Do you want that landing on your unprotected feet? No? Then wear actual shoes.

2. You will get sweaty. Not all of the sweat will be your own. Come to peace with this fact and deal with it. You can shower later.

3. For those well-seasoned concert goers (and I'm not talking about concert goers covered in thyme and a thick marinade), watch out for the little ones. You were 13, wide-eyed and dumber than a brick once upon a time too. Yes, they are annoying, but as more experienced concert goers, it does fall to us to make sure that these little ones survive this concert to have their eardrums blasted again another day.

4. In the mosh-pit, if someone falls pick them up! Yes, if you jump into a mosh-pit you can pretty much assume that some form of bodily harm is coming your way. However, smashing someone's face into the floor just because they can't get up in time is not part of the deal. Don't be a twit, just help them up.

5. That being said, if you decide to foray into a mosh-pit, no whining due to your bruises, scratches and/or giant footprints left in your stomach later. You cannot poke a velociraptor with a stick, then whine when it rips your arm off.

6. Never drag someone into a mosh-pit or throw them up to be crowd surfed if they don't want to! I cannot count the amount of absolutely terrified faces I have seen in, and subsequently had to drag out of, mosh-pits. Seriously, if your friend says they don't want to go, save others the trouble of having to "save" your completely unprepared companion from your need to be a jerk. Let your friend enjoy the music and the experience.

7. Don't try to smoke a bowl in the middle of a concert. Guess what, the bouncers are all super tall, and can see when you light up. Plus, good luck trying to deny that it was you who who caused the entire area to smell skunked when you look like this:

That, and I really don't need to be lit on fire again when someone bumps into you as you're trying to smoke in the center of a quickly moving crowd.

8. Rock concerts are not for people who are claustrophobic or who don't like being touched. You will touch lots and lots of people and they will be touching you. Some of it is unintentional, some of it is intentional. If it's intentional and inappropriate, elbow them in the ribs "accidentally" and move on.

9. It's not going to be fun if you don't jump in. Give it some energy. If your calves aren't sore from jumping up and down the next morning and you don't sound like you've been smoking for 70 years because you yelled so much last night, then something is very wrong. If you don't buy into the energy coursing through the room, then you aren't getting the full experience. If it helps, think of it as a form of exercise (because I promise it is one of the best cardio workouts of your life).

It's not hard to both have an awesome time at a concert and not be a complete twit too. Just keep in mind these little understood guidelines that basically break down to the same Golden Rule; Do unto others as you would have them do unto you, and maybe that giant, tattooed behemoth to your left won't decide to use you as a toothpick.

Did I miss anything important to add to that list? If so, let me know!

As always feel free to follow my raucous exploits on Facebook, Twitter, Goodreads. 

We Have a Winner! (And a Very Sore Writer)

Hello all of you who have managed to crawl through the workday to survive Monday thus far!

Well, first off, we have a winner to the the contest to win a signed copy of "Life is a Circus Run by a Platypus" and have his or her writing featured in my next book!

There were a plethora of fantastic entries, but Diane Snyder's completion of "Going through airport security is like..." with "...trying to shave a grizzly bear's legs and then put her in a dress. Most of it is a waste of time, and the rest is a major hassle!" wins! Excellent job Diane!

If you did not win this time around don't despair, I promise there will be more contests soon!

So I apologize for the lateness of this blog post, but there's a very good reason for my tardiness. This weekend I was doing this:

And this:

And this:

If you can't figure out what I was doing (despite all the people, including myself, in kilts), I competed at the Spokane Highland Games this weekend.

Basically, I spent around 9 hours hefting, throwing and glaring at various heavy objects when they didn't go where I wanted them to go.

The Highland Games, for those who don't know, are comprised of several different events, such as weight for distance (first picture), weight for height, putting of the stone (third picture), hammer throw (second picture), the caber toss (which is when you see people in kilts running and throwing giant logs) and dodging flying projectiles.

So that last one is not an official event, but it is something one sometimes has to do if they don't wish to be killed by flying heavy implements.

It's kind of like a track and field meet, if track and field meets had you compete in every event offered, included people in kilts and were backed by bagpipe music all day long (I was hearing bagpipes for hours after I left). So it's a track and field meet with the intensity turned up about 93 notches.

It also provided me with a group of unique experiences that could only happen at a highland games competition.

For instance, it is not really a daily occurrence to have your kilt get caught on a chair as you're trying to stand up. Nor is it normal to high five someone and have your hands become grafted together because you forgot they were covered in tacky (a very sticky substance used to help with the caber toss). And while losing your car in a parking lot is common enough, losing it while carrying a log is less so. 

Truthfully, it was a fantastic experience, and now that I have a glimmer of an idea of what I'm doing, I will most certainly be training for next year's competition.

If anyone is in the Spokane area and wants to try it out, I would certainly encourage you to go to the Spokane Highland Games' website! Also, if you're interested but don't happen to have the joy of living in Spokompton, then I might suggest looking into the Scottish American Athletic Association for the games held closest to you.

Well, I had better go attempt to put my back into the correct alignment. Remember, you can always follow my exploits on Facebook, Twitter, and Goodreads!

Daaaarling!

Well good afternoon ladies and gentlemen (unless you live on the other side of the planet, then I'm terribly sorry for waking you up)!!!

First off, the contest to win a signed copy of Life is a Circus Run by a Platypus and get your own writing a spot in my next book is still going on!

All you have to do to enter is complete the sentence, "Going through airport security is like..." in either the comments below or on my Facebook page! I've gotten some awesome entries so far, but would love to see what ya'll can come up with.

Well this has been another lovely week of crazy following me wherever I go. 

It all started out on Monday when I had to call the government tech support for a program I have to use for my state reporting at work. 

What I was expecting was some bored sounding tech support person who was going to ask me a dozen times if the reason the program wasn't working was because I had forgotten to turn my computer on. 

Instead what I got was a very gruff female voice that said, "Ya, what'd'ya want!"

If I had to guess, the woman on the other end of the line was raised in New Jersey, had been smoking since birth and probably belonged to a bowling league called something like "The Skull Crushers." Pretty much, if I had to guess at what she looked like in person, this is what I would imagine: 

I explained the issue the program was giving me and I heard some keys tapping on the other end of the phone line followed suddenly by, "Alright toots, so the program is completely FUBAR-ed (if you don't know what that means, go ask a Marine) on our end. Give us the afternoon and I'm sure Jerry can fix it. Hey Jerry, put down that ping-pong paddle, we got a program on the fritz! Alright sweetheart, give us a few hours and we'll get it back up and running." 

And with that she hung up the phone. Apparently her threats to Jerry worked as a few hours later I was able to file my state reports.  I have never before been called "toots" by tech support, that was definitely a new one.

This wasn't the strangest event of my week, though. I was out and about in downtown Spokane when I was approached by one of the scariest transvestites I have ever seen.

Now when I say "scary" I don't mean wielding a pickaxe and chasing after a man on a motorcycle type of scary transvestite like Dr. Frank N Furter. 

No, I mean her wig was on practically sideways, she was wearing olive green shiny tights that were testing the very laws of physics as they tried to contain everything and it looked like she had applied make-up by trowel, trial and error in the dark that morning.

I could smell waves upon waves of rum as she approached me. She teetered on her heels as she glanced down at me and said, "Daaaarling."

From experience, let me tell you, when a drag queen starts out with, "Daaaaaarling," it's never good.

She nearly fell over with her first word, but righted herself and managed to slur out, "Girl, your hair just does not look right. That is the worst dye job I have ever seen! Get that fixed!"

Then she teetered off down the street.

I wasn't really sure how to break this to her, but my hair isn't dyed. In fact, I haven't dyed my hair since college.  Apparently though, I need to go get that fixed.

Add in the lady who told me that in a past life she was a dark elf fighting hobbits and the small child who attempted to color on the walls in my office, and it was an interesting week to be sure.

Did anyone else have bizarre happenings this week? As always I would love to hear about them!

Remember you can follow my exploits on Facebook, Twitter and Goodreads!

Conundrum is an Awesome Word

Hello all! Well, we survived another week without alien invasion or Godzilla attack. I think we should all count that as a success.

Just a quick reminder. I do have a contest going on that will not only garner a winner a signed copy of "Life is a Circus Run by a Platypus," but the winner will also have their own writing talents showcased in my next book.

All you have to do to enter is complete the statement, "Going through airport security is like..." in either the comments below or on any of the Facebook posts about it. I've already gotten some awesome entries, but keep them coming people!

So I stumbled upon this little gem of a book recently:

Author John Hartnett captures a wonderful slice of family life in his book "The Barber's Conundrum." Vacillating between commentary on parenting, lampooning magazines and televised news and providing snarky tips for restaurant owners, this collection of essays and anecdotes will leave you smiling. Hartnett's writing is easy to relate to and great for either short reading spurts or a longer time spent curled up in a cozy chair.

What is even better is that I was able to snag an interview with author John Hartnett!

What motivated you to start writing? 

Do you mean besides having an excuse not to fold laundry? I've always had a love of writing, books, movies and art and even before putting pen to paper, I was always "writing" jokes and playing with words in my head to use in everyday conversation.  I knew from an early age that I wanted to be a comedy writer and that was the impetus to start.

Regardless of how many books I sell or how many people read my work, mentally and emotionally, I need a creative outlet in order to feel fulfilled.  It's a big reason why I started my humor blog, The Monkey Bellhop.  I try to post new material there at least three or four days a week.   Also, writing makes it easier to justify not working out.  I run hot and cold with exercise.  Right now, my body is telling me it has hypothermia.

 If you could rewrite any book or movie as a musical, which one would it be and why?

Great question.  I think I would take a crack at turning "The Catcher in the Rye" into a musical because the day it opened, I would go to the cemetery where J.D. Salinger is buried so I could find out once and for all whether people really can turn over in their graves.

What was your favorite part about writing "The Barber's Conundrum?"

Finishing it!  I did everything myself including copy editing, layout, cover design, etc.  It wasn't because I thought I was the most qualified person for the job, I'm just notoriously cheap.  In retrospect, I don't recommend being your own editor or cover designer, unless you have real skills there, and hope I don't have to do it again.

I did feel a great sense of accomplishment in putting it all together but the best part overall has been the initial reaction to the stories which were very positive and encouraging.  The reviews on Amazon have helped me to have faith that there is an audience for my book.

I made a decision very early in the writing process not to use any profanity or to write about anything overly offensive since there's already a lot of that material out there.  I'm not a prude or anything, it was just a choice I made about my work.  I think that as a result,  the appeal has broadened a bit to a much wider demographic than I had initially envisioned.  I have had parents tell me that their kids got a kick out of the school stories like The School Project: An American Tragedy, Making Homework History and The Only Child Rearing Book You'll Ever Need.

Your book is in the running for the Amazon Best Indie Book Awards, how excited are you for that?

I'm very excited. As an independent self-published author among a virtual sea of independent self published authors, I'm honored and more than slightly amazed to be recognized at all.   I try to do as much outreach as I can to promote my book, as all independents have to, but there are days where you feel the odds of anyone "finding" your book are greater than discovering a message in a bottle in the middle of the Atlantic that contains all 5 winning Powerball numbers.  I tell people that marketing a self published book is akin to a salmon run made all the more difficult because the salmon representing your book is also deceased. 

If you had to choose between eating nothing but custard pie for the rest of your life or being stuck in a room with  a very annoyed gorilla for a day, which would you choose?

I would probably go with the gorilla as long as he is not a term life insurance salesman.  Or a trained custard pie chef.  You didn't clarify, so unless that's the case, I'll go with the gorilla.  One thing I don't need is one of those O Henry like twists to mark the end of my days on Earth.  I want something fast and easy.  My goal is to just find myself in Heaven and the first words that come out of my mouth are, "What hit me?"

Thank you John! For those interested in picking yourself up a copy of "The Barber's Conundrum" you can do so via Earlybird Press, Amazon, Smashwords and Barnes and Noble.

"Life is a Circus Run by a Platypus" is getting some awesome reviews!

Amazon reader FromtheAshes says: "Allison's talent at seeing the random and hilarious side of every situation provides the reader with sore sides and a refreshed mind. This book is perfect for those moments when you're looking for a short, but light-hearted, read. The stories are entertaining and the lessons at the end of each are sure to amuse and make you nod your head in agreement. I look forward to reading more from Allison!"

Thank you again to all the readers who write reviews, as a first time author they make a huge impact!

As always, feel free to follow my daily adventures on Facebook, Goodreads and Twitter!

Maters, Taters and Grits, oh my!

Greetings ya'll! I hope your weeks have been more exciting than the thought of a thousand gremlins, who have been fed after midnight, playing kettle-drums to Janis Joplin's "Piece of My Heart!"

Well for today's post I actually had to sit down with a glass of good ol' sweet tea and Charlie Daniels Band's "Devil Went Down to Georgia" blasting in the background.

"What would bring out Allison's not normally as obvious Southern side?" one might ask.

This is why:

Author B.S. Johnson wrote this nice little slice of Georgia peach pie and not only signed a copy for me, but allowed me to interview her as well!

"Maters, Taters and Grits" is a little homage to Southern living that is perfect for anyone wishing to revisit their roots in the deep South or for those wanting to get a peek into what "Southern Hospitality" really means. B.S. Johnson not only does a good job in her collection of essays of conveying the warmth of the culture she grew up in, but does so in a way that will leave you hankering for a huge glass of sweet tea.

Of course, what am I still yapping about, here is B.S. Johnson's world in her own words:

What made you want to start writing?

I was raised an only child, and was adopted. I had lots of things running through my young mind, and no siblings to beat it out on, so I started using writing as an outlet. I filled many notebooks in my day.

You have a new book of poetry coming out soon, can you tell my readers a bit about it?

 

It is actually out now. "Rhymes from Darker Times." I guess you could say it was twenty years in the making, because several of the poems in that book came out of notebooks I have been writing in since the late eighties, early nineties. These poems were some that helped me through some of the more difficult times in my life.

Side note: Look here it is!  

If you could sit and have a glass of sweet tea with any fictional character from a book, what character would it be?

Oh, that would have to be Harry Potter. I love magic. I wonder if he could make me talk to animals...

What is the single biggest difference between Southerners and Northerners?

The accent, I think. You can usually pick up on it right away. 

What song are you most likely to be overheard singing loudly to in the shower?

Probably anything by Colt Ford. I'm a huge fan.

If you had to choose between an eternity of listening to nothing but elevator music or an eternity of eating nothing but jello with vegetables in it, which would you choose and why?

Jello with veggies. Because I gotta eat. And jello is yummy. If there's veggies in it I don't like, such as peas, I'll pick 'em out. 

What has been your favorite part of the writing process thus far?

Honestly, I'd have to say being published. It was such a great accomplishment for me. I never in my wildest dreams thought I'd have a book-much less two- in print!

Thank you to B.S. Johnson for being a good sport and answering my questions! If either of those books piqued your interest you should check them out (go click the titles, I linked them) and also scurry on over to B.S. Johnson's blog!

Well "Life is a Circus Run by a Platypus" has been out for about a month and a half now!

J.G. Brandt says, "This had me laughing the entire way through. The stories themselves are the kind that are so wonderfully and hilariously improbable that you know they are true. Miss Hawn has a unique style that is quite delightful for the reader and a quick as a whip sense of humor that will have you smiling despite yourself. If you have ever had a moment in your own life where you sat stunned at a situation you were in thinking "that so did not just happen...." or "no one is ever gonna believe this...." you will enjoy this book. When I finished the last story my first thought was "But wait! There has to be more!" I look forward to her next work"

Thank you to everyone who has supported me thus far, written reviews and generally just been absolutely smashing! I hope you all have a splendid week!

If you want to find out why a raven is like a writing desk, feel free to follow me on Facebook, Twitter and Goodreads! 

The Short List

Hello all! I hope everyone is having a more fantastic Sunday than the thought of a thousand lemmings synchronized swimming to "Bittersweet Symphony."

Well, to start out "Life is a Circus Run by a Platypus" has been getting some pretty sweet reviews!

Amazon user Annie_Larlee writes, "Allison is able to write so descriptively that you feel like you are right there beside her as she experiences each story! This is a must-read if you want to have a good laugh and see a snap shot of the life Allison lives!!! I would recommend it to all of my friends, family and acquaintances!"

The book has also been making it all around the country!

Here it is in Georgia (thanks to B.S. Johnson for the picture):

Here it is with the contest winner Jill JP Palmquist in Washington:

And here it is in California (thanks to Marty M. for the picture):

Well, it has been a crazy (about two steps away from psychotic crazy) week for me. In one week I got a new job, moved to a new apartment and was called "darling" by no less than four different people.

If I have seemed oddly silent, it's not because I'm dead, though, with how my life tends to progress, that is a fair assumption to make. 

I am currently sitting in a coffee shop scalping internet, as my home internet will not be hooked up for a bit yet, as I very slowly drink a mocha that I am relatively sure has enough sugar in it to give a weasel an aneurysm.  Good thing I'm slightly bigger than a weasel, huh?

One of the things that moving has made abundantly clear is that I am short. This point was especially exemplified when I went to hang my shower curtain in my new bathroom, stepped up into the tub (which is about 6 inches off the ground) and my friend Sarah said, "Wow, even with you standing in a tub I'm still taller than you."

I was about to protest, until I looked over and realized I was making eye contact with her for the first time ever without having to crane my neck upwards, and yes, she was still a good inch or two taller than me.

Being 5'3" (on a good day and sometimes only if I stand on my tippy-toes) means that a lot of my conversations feel like this:

O.k., so I'm short, which has its admitted downsides (no pun intended). I can't reach the top cabinets without imitating a spider monkey, I would need a pogo stick to ever compete in a hurdle race and it is much easier for people to condescendingly pat me on the head than most.

Despite these issues, I think that being short has some clear advantages. So if you are short, like me, I encourage you to bring up these points next time someone mocks your vertically challenged state.

1. Short people tend to have mad hide and seek skills. Remember that box that you never thought anyone would ever curl up in?

Yeah, we've been in that box for 45 minutes and are perfectly comfortable.

2. We are built lower to the ground, meaning that when we fall it's a shorter distance to the ground. It's also a lot less effort to get back up again.

3. We tend not to have this problem:

4. These guys are short, and they are awesome!

5. Our lives spent as short people have improved our ability to climb things.

6. We have a lower center of gravity and are built low to the ground for speed an accuracy.

See, being short isn't terrible. So we occasionally need help reaching things out of our own kitchen cabinets and spend a lot of time examining peoples' nostrils, but at least we're harder to find, thwart or push over!

Well, I had best go before the coffee shop people begin to suspect me of plotting a caffeine fueled revolt. Remember you can always follow my exploits on Facebook, Twitter and Goodreads!